


We Lose Our Minds in a City of Roses

by Sparrow (hersilentlanguage)



Series: Love is a Cat From Hell [4]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Auradon-setting (implied), Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Late Night Conversations, M/M, TW: Swearing, jaylos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hersilentlanguage/pseuds/Sparrow
Summary: “Cute,” Jay murmurs, opening both eyes, heavily lidded.“No,you,”says Carlos, as if he’s been insulted. He’s not as put out as he pretends to be, though, which is obvious from how he wrenches one corner of the sheet up to demand his usual turf.Jay shudders and curls into himself from the cold rush of air. “Ugh, get inquick,”he grumbles into his pillow, “but don’t fucking touch me with your cold ass—feet—“ His voice pitches an octave as Carlos purposefully slides one of his legs under the sheet, prodding at Jay’s thigh until he rolls away with a grunt of protest.
Relationships: Jay/Carlos de Vil
Series: Love is a Cat From Hell [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605898
Comments: 14
Kudos: 123





	We Lose Our Minds in a City of Roses

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stuck in perfectionist hell trying to finalize Chapter 5 of _Rats des Villes_ , so I grabbed my notebook and scribbled this out for a change of pace. This is a fluffy Jaylos piece that's linked to the main story, but set in a distant future in Auradon where Jay and Carlos have started dating. You don't need to have read RDV or its prequel to understand the "plot" for this oneshot.
> 
> _The title of this story is a lyric borrowed from the very, very beautiful song "Fire On Fire" by Sam Smith._
> 
> Oh, and I'm marking this complete, but if I write another oneshot that fits with this general mood/setting, I'll probably add it here and turn this into a little collection of oneshots. RDV is only gonna get darker. This pile of fluff will balance it out. ;)

“Jay? Jay-Jay? Jay-caramba? Jayyy—”

_“Los…_ shut up. I’m sleeping.”

There’s no response, but Jay can hear Carlos breathing. He sounds close, too—like, really close—like, that’s all Jay can hear anymore—and for Lucifer’s sake, is he _actually—_

“Cee.” (Jay says it quietly, without opening his eyes.) “It’s 3 AM, man. We’ve talked about this. Go the fuck to sleep.”

A beat of silence, and then—

“You know you’re more of a dick at night?”

Jay inhales sharply through his nose. “It’s. Three. A—“

“M, yeah. I got it.” Carlos seems to shift where he’s standing, because Jay can hear his pyjamas rustle, but he doesn’t sound more distant when he speaks again, with a bit of smugness: _“Actually,_ it’s 2:46 AM, so…”

“That makes it better,” says Jay, his tone rougher for the exhaustion he feels in his bones. He’s always been a light sleeper, even after leaving the Isle behind, which is a problem when Carlos starts to stress about exams in a way that his anxiety is _palpable._

Carlos had been trying to keep his strange hours outside the dorm, but after campus security caught him napping in the shelves (twice), they _suggested_ he take his books elsewhere for a few weeks.

And so, night after night, Jay would drift in and out to the sound of fluttering pages, typing and clicking, muttered curses, and crinkling chocolate wrappers. He’d forget the dreams he had between the jarring rush of water through the bathroom pipes and the whimpers that told of nightmares.

But finally, _finally,_ there was nothing left to study—

Carlos had shut his laptop at midnight and gone to bed.

Jay strains his tired mind, but he can’t remember anything in-between then and now—hadn’t registered so much as the padding of feet before Carlos’ voice was rousing him out of the dark, silent depths his exhaustion had dragged him to.

“What do you want?” Jay asks in a sleepy, mock-exasperated tone when he realizes Carlos won’t just _tell_ him. “I can feel you staring.” (He waits several seconds. There’s no reply.)

Jay opens one eye to look at Carlos, whose white hair is aglow in the dim moonlight that streams so perfectly through the cracks in their lazily drawn curtains. He can feel something in his chest begin to ache from the sight.

_(It’s a pleasant pain, a kind of dizzying affirmation…)_

Carlos is hovering at his bedside like a lost puppy, with those _eyes_ —those good-forsaken eyes that can get him anything he wants, like an extra scoop of chocolate ice cream, no charge, at that one place, and no less than three-quarters of Jay’s bed and blankets by morning—

Carlos scoffs when the words slip out somehow, without Jay meaning them to. “Fuck you,” he mutters, and Jay just laughs because he sounds so _petulant,_ it’s maybe a little adorable— _but damn, where’s even the line between his mouth and his brain, because now Carlos is blushing, and it’s—_

“Cute,” Jay murmurs, opening both eyes, heavily lidded.

“No, _you,”_ says Carlos, as if he’s been insulted. He’s not as put out as he pretends to be, though, which is obvious from how he wrenches one corner of the sheet up to demand his usual turf.

Jay shudders and curls into himself from the cold rush of air. “Ugh, get in _quick,”_ he grumbles into his pillow, “but don’t fucking touch me with your cold ass— _feet_ —“ His voice pitches an octave as Carlos purposefully slides one of his legs under the sheet, prodding at Jay’s thigh until he rolls away with a grunt of protest.

The mattress dips and bounces several times as Carlos wriggles around, getting comfortable. Jay huffs a breath when the fuss goes on longer than strictly necessary.

When they’ve both gone still, they lie awake in the silence.

Jay tries to drift off again, tries to pretend like he can’t feel Carlos’ irregular heartbeat through the mattress coils, tries to respect that Carlos obviously doesn’t want to talk about it—

He just wants _this._ The closeness. The warmth.

Jay _knows_ that, but he still likes to ask, to let Carlos know that he’s there—not just beside him; he’s really _there_ —

“So… nightmare?” Jay asks lamely, mentally grading his attempt at “being there” a flat zero out of ten, because _mother-fucking-Maleficent, he’s bad with emotions._

(But fortunately, that’s all the time he has to berate himself.)

“Nightmare,” Carlos affirms with a shaky sigh, turning so that his breath tickles the crook of Jay’s spine, between the shoulders, in a way that feels both hot and cold against the skin.

Jay shivers at the sensation. He’s slow to move, but eventually, he rolls around to face Carlos. “Wanna talk about it?” he asks, blinking sleepily at his boyfriend through the shadows.

Carlos hums thoughtfully, then replies, “Can we just sleep?”

“I’ve been trying,” says Jay, with a trace of a teasing laugh in his voice that has Carlos shoving his ice-cold fingers into Jay’s warm armpit as precisely as if he’d trained for the kill.

Jay makes a sound that can only be described as _primal-in-the-face-of-death-or-divinity,_ a true and humbling revelation of his vulnerabilities.

_“Weak,”_ says Carlos through a wheeze of laughter.

And Jay bites him for that, but not immediately, no—it’s later, in the morning, when Carlos least expects it and thinks Jay’s forgotten. It’s later, at breakfast, when Carlos is sitting small and vulnerable in front of his coffee, all aglow in the sunlight.

Carlos threatens divorce as he tries to hide the bite mark on his neck with a thick scarf that he’s _determined_ to wear indoors—yes, all day, thank you. He’s “just cold,” if you’re asking.

Jay points out that they’re not married yet, and Carlos whirls around to ask him what the hell he means by “yet,” because isn’t that just a tad presumptuous, to think—

“Don’t think,” says Jay, kissing him quiet.

_It feels right, that’s the thing._

_It’s always felt right._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Any kudos and/or comments would be much adored. <3
> 
> P.S. I'm on Tumblr (and looking for more active Descendants blogs to follow): @hersilentlanguage


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